


No Good Deed (Goes Unpunished)

by SherlockianSyndromes



Series: Prompt Fills 2018 [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/F, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Shock, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/pseuds/SherlockianSyndromes
Summary: “According to your lady friend’s blog, you’re a right braggart.”Shirley Holmes is kidnapped and tortured by an underling working for the mysterious JM.





	No Good Deed (Goes Unpunished)

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING. 
> 
> This story is a continuation of a series of drabbles I've done for a Femlock AU. It was written for Day 18 of the watsons_woes July Writing Prompts challenge. It also fulfills the Torture space on my card for H/C Bingo Round 9.

Darkness.

A flash of pain across her right cheek. Already bruising. Blood coagulating. Endless pain.

Eyes open.

“Wake up, love. Time to chat again.”

The man with green eyes in the well-tailored suit was hunched over Shirley again, knife in hand, sadistic grin on his face.

Shirley coughed and tried to move her limbs. Still tied up. Stiff. Hands going numb from the rope.

“You sure do like to talk, don’t you?”

The man slid a chair across the floor of the dingy basement, the legs of the chair scraping loudly on the cement. He turned it around and sat in it backwards, but facing Shirley.

“I’ve heard you love to talk too. Especially about yourself.”

Shirley spat on the floor. “Not really, no.”

“According to your lady friend’s blog, you’re a right braggart.” The man’s grin grew wider and he held the knife against Shirley’s cheek. “So? Brag.”

Shirley inhaled and spoke through gritted teeth. “Nothing to brag -”

The man sliced a fresh wound onto her cheek and Shirley choked back a scream.

“Darling, I don’t want to destroy this pretty face of yours. Don’t make me. Now tell me what you know about Jamie Moriarty.”

Shirley felt blood dripping down her cheek. “I told you before, I don’t  _ know  _ anything.”

“Sure you do. You’ve been collecting her calling cards from all those crime scenes, haven’t you? Got a whole box of ‘em, I reckon.”

There was a box under Shirley’s bed full of stray bits of paper, scraps of photos, all bearing the initials JM in the same typeset. She’d found them over the course of the last few months, as high-ranked government officials turned up dead in their own offices and she and Jane were called upon to work the cases.

Jane didn’t know about any of it. And this was why.

JM. Jamie Moriarty. This madwoman was a puzzle Shirley’d been trying to solve on her own. But she dug too deep, and now she was tied up in an anonymous basement somewhere, gashes covering her face and arms, ribs bruised and aching with every breath.

She might die here.

She closed her eyes and saw Jane’s face.

Another sharp slap, this time across her left cheek.

“Pay attention!”

“Why don’t you just kill me? Isn’t that what Moriarty wants? If she’s worried about me discovering some secret plot, the joke’s on me, isn’t it? You found me first.”

_ Walking alone. Chasing a vague lead to where JM might strike next. Needle piercing her throat. Warmth in her veins. The night sky hanging above her as her eyes fell shut. _

Too close. Too dangerous.

“You like games, don’t you Shirley?” the man asked, sneering.

Shirley remained silent.

“You see, Jamie appreciates a woman of intellect.  Is fascinated by them, really. No, she wants you alive. She has so much left to show you.”

He took the knife, sharp enough to cut paper, and gently curved it toward her face, leaving a thin trail of blood behind.

“Not before I’ve had my fun though. And I always get to have fun. That’s our deal, me and Jamie. To the victor go the spoils. But don’t worry.”

He grabbed at Shirley’s blood-soaked shirt and ripped it open.

“I’ll leave you whole. Mostly.”

Shirley began struggling as hard as she could against the rope tying her to the chair. He straddled her lap and began cutting her shirt away entirely.

“Don’t - please -”

“Keep talking. I like to hear them beg.”

He slid the blade underneath the front of her bra, and Shirley closed her eyes. For the first time in her life, she prayed, but she didn’t pray to any god.

She prayed for Jane Watson.

Her prayer was answered with the sound of a gun cocking.

“You move, you die.”

_ Jane. _

Shirley’s eyes flew open. Jane stood beside the man, gun pressed to the right side of his temple. Her hands weren’t shaking.

He stilled his movements for a few beats. Then Shirley felt the knife carve into her chest and rip through the front of her bra as he turned his weapon on Jane.

She fired three shots into his chest. The knife clattered to the ground.

Shirley’s breath was coming in panicked gasps. She was going into shock.

“Shirley!”

She heard Jane say her name. Couldn’t see her. Vision blurred. Hands freed, pins and needles lashing through her fingers. Legs freed, ankles stiff and sore. She felt a heavy weight fall across her shoulders, surrounding her upper body and closing in on her.

“W-what -”

“It’s a blanket. To cover you up.”

“Jane. Jane.”

“Shirley. Look at me. Please, look at me. I need you to breathe, okay? Breathe with me. If you need to close your eyes to do it, you can. Breathe in with me, one, two, three, four. Now hold it for seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Now exhale, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

They kept breathing together until Gretchen arrived with more help.

~

Shirley still had the blanket on her shoulders, but wore a fresh shirt underneath. She sat in the back of the ambulance, numb to the flurry of activity around her. Jane stood a few feet away, talking to Gretchen. She turned around and climbed into the ambulance, her hand resting gently on Shirley’s shoulder.

“They’re going to take you to the hospital to get you stitched up and checked out. I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

“Jane -”

“Do you want me to ride in the ambulance with you? I can see if they’ll let me even though it’s not a life-threatening situation -”

“Jane.”

Jane finally paused for breath and looked at Shirley. She blinked back tears.

Shirley reached out, hands trembling, and pulled Jane closer to her.

“Thank you for saving me.”

She hesitated for just a moment before pressing a chaste kiss to Jane’s lips.

The rest of the world disappeared. There was only Jane.

Jane pulled back, her face contorted with several conflicting emotions.

“Shirley, you need to go -”

Shirley kissed her again, this time with more desperation.

Jane leaned forward, kissing Shirley back for a few seconds before pulling away again.

“Shirley, you’re in shock.”

“Please don’t leave.” Shirley choked on the sob threatening to escape her.

“Never,” Jane answered. 

She sat next to Shirley and wrapped her arms around her. The ambulance doors slammed shut and the vehicle lurched forward. Shirley leaned against Jane, felt the solid warmth of her body, and knew in her gut that Jamie Moriarty wasn’t finished with either of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Shout out to nagi_schwarz and Brumeier for giving this a quick read before I posted it. <3


End file.
